Chapter 11: Daring to Ask

Stella let them in and went straight through to the bedroom to change her clothes, leaving Don to put the food out in the kitchen. By the time she was dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, the food was ready, and Don had even poured her a glass of wine. She sighed when he handed her a plate and seated her at the tiny table in what she liked to think of as her dining nook.

He'd lit the candles on the windowsill beside the table, and had turned on the radio. Soft jazz filled the small apartment.

"I could get used to this," she said, feeling some of the stress of the day wash away under the influence of soft lighting, good food, and soft music.

"Do you want to?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he could have kicked himself. He hadn't meant to blurt it out like that, but it was too late now.

"Want to what?" She was paying more attention to the lasagna than to Don.

"Do this. Live together." His voice was so quiet that she thought she'd misunderstood.

"What?" She looked at him in shock, a forkful of lasagna halfway to her mouth.

"I want to do this with you every day, Stella. I want to come home to you, take care of you when you need it. I want to have you in my life all the time, not just after work or on our days off. I love you. Live with me."

His blue eyes bore into hers. She could see the fear in them; the fear he had jumped too fast, done this too soon. But she also saw the certainty in them: it was not too soon for him.

"Don… I don't know what to say," Stella started slowly.

He jumped to his feet, pushing his plate away. "Shit."

"Wait. Don't do that. Give me a second to catch my breath." She reached a hand out to him, but he had turned away. He went to the kitchen to grab his coat, and came back in to the dining room, shrugging it on.

"I'm going to go. I'll call you later." He couldn't believe he had screwed this up. Usually it took him at least a few weeks to make such a mess of things. This time it hadn't taken him any time at all.

"Don Flack, don't you DARE walk out that door." Her voice stopped him dead, but he couldn't turn around.

"I'm sorry. Stella, forget I said anything." He didn't know how to go back on this, to make it all right again.

He caught the scent of her before he felt her arms go around him.

"Give me a minute, I said." She buried her head under his shoulder blade, her arms tight around his chest.

Cautiously, he turned in her embrace, his arms going around her, holding her tightly. She fit in his arms as if she had been designed just for him. He could feel her shaking, and instantly any thought of his own feelings disappeared.

"Stella, don't. Come on, Stella. Don't do that. Stella, it's not worth it. Forget I said anything. We'll pretend it didn't happen…" his voice stopped when Stella looked up at him, laughing eyes bright with unshed tears. Then she was kissing him breathless.

"Just you try to take it back now. Just you try." And her mouth was on his again, her body against his. He had to strain to hear anything over the pounding of his own heart, but the words, "I love you, you idiot," resounded in his ears like the sweetest music ever heard.

His coat slid unnoticed to the floor.